


House of Alchemy

by orsumfenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:49:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsumfenix/pseuds/orsumfenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally doesn't believe in magic, and thus thinks the link between their homes is scientific. Draco doesn't believe in science, and thus thinks the link between their houses is magical. <br/>Either way, they're both glad for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just an excuse to have some of my favourite characters interacting  
> i know they aren't actually the same age but they are in this
> 
> i can't write children help me

**_Central City, America_ **

When Mary and Rudy West, recently married with a baby on the way, went in search of houses, all suitable ones were expensive except one.

Not that there was any immediate reason for it being cheap – it was large, three bedrooms, heated, reasonable distance from the shops. It seemed like the perfect house to raise their child in, like many of the other houses that they’d seen, and yet it was up for a very low price.

“It seems too good to be true,” Mary had muttered to Rudy as she surveyed the living room. “It’s _lovely_. But cheap. You don’t think it has damp, do you?”

Rudy frowned and shook his head.

“We’ve looked,” he stated. “And it’s pretty bare, anyway – no one’s lived here for a while.”

And so, only doubting themselves slightly, Mary and Rudy West bought the house.

On their moving-in date, their new neighbours all shook their heads and sighed.

“They really should’ve stayed away,” one of them commented as they watched the moving truck pull away. “Haunted, that house.”

\--

Said neighbour, several months later, a man in his fifties named David, decided to finally brave up and face the Wests.

They were a pleasant couple, he found – Mary, heavily pregnant and warm with love, and Rudy openly caring for his wife and ever so excited about the baby on the way. They wanted to raise it here, in the house. David wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, but saying so would probably get him thrown out.

“You like the house, then?” he asked finally, looking around. He’d only been inside a couple of times, both times after the latest owners had run out screaming. David wasn’t so keen on being back. “Not giving you any problems, is it?”

Mary and Rudy had shared a puzzled look.

“No,” Rudy answered for the both of them, turning his gaze back onto David. “Should it be?”

 _The ghosts should be_ , David thought, but kept himself silent. He forced a smile.

“Not at all!” he announced forcefully. “Just some old rumours, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mary said, looking a bit put-out. “You know – you’re the first neighbour who’s come to see us in all the months that we’ve been here. Is that because of the… rumours?”

“Probably,” David had agreed. _Definitely_. “Not anything to worry about, everyone around these parts is a bit superstitious.” _They’re right to be_. “Well, I’ll be off then. Take care of yourselves, and your baby.”

“Yes, thank you,” Rudy replied, seeing David out while Mary stayed seated at the table, sipping her coffee. “Nice of you to drop by – make it a habit, will you?”

David knew he was going to hate coming to this fucking creepy house as a habit, but he agreed anyway.

And as he was walking away, back to his own house, he’d glanced up at the bedroom window, and stopped dead.

A blonde woman, perhaps around the same age as Mary, was looking out. She was wearing a nightgown, made of – silk? Her hair was neatly folded into a bun atop her head. She was holding her stomach, slightly – it seemed to be bulging, only a little. Was she pregnant, too?

Mary and Rudy were the only ones living in the house.

David looked away, heart racing wildly, and nodded to himself.

“Like I said,” he muttered as he continued on. “Ghosts living in there.”

\--

Mary West herself had noticed some oddities about the house.

For instance, she’d opened the food cupboard one day to find it full of nothing but wine. She’d blinked, scanning the labels. All very expensive wine, she’d noted with eyebrows raised. Then she furrowed them. There was supposed to be food in this cupboard, not wine. Had Rudy done this? How could he afford it?

Mary had shut the cupboard door for a moment to pick up a glass of water, and when she’d re-opened it several seconds later she found it full of food.

It was not the only strange thing to happen to Mary.

Once, as she’d walked past a mirror, she had glimpsed a tall man with long white-blonde hair reflected in her place. Mary had stopped and stared, but the man had kept on walking out of view. Behind him, instead of her house, she’d seen a corridor, dark and posh.

Mary had simply shaken her head, and continued on, not allowing herself to give it a second thought.

On one such occasion, perhaps the oddest experience of the lot, she had opened the door to the bedroom and stepped through into a grand room, with a long table set out in the middle. It seemed as though she was in a mansion’s dining room, the walls lined with armour and portraits that seemed to be… moving?

Mary had been terrified, and quickly stepped back out of the door, slamming it closed behind her.

When she opened it again several seconds later, it led to her bedroom.

\--

Rudy had also had such encounters.

He had come home with the shopping, placed it on the kitchen counter, and turned around. When he turned back, he found a large book in its place.

The book itself was titled _Dark Magic_ , and something about it felt very… _off_. Just looking at it made Rudy feel immensely uncomfortable, never mind picking it up.

Feeling silly even as he did so, Rudy had used his spatulas pick the book up and throw it in the bin.

Like Mary, this was not his only experience. Several times he’d open a door only to see it leading to somewhere unknown – another couple’s bedroom, a pantry, even a child’s nursery. Each time, Rudy had not dared to enter, instead shutting and re-opening the door so that it led to his intended destination.

Other than these… _peculiarities_ , the house was fantastic.

And so they stayed.

\--

**_Wiltshire, England_ **

Malfoy Manor is as ancient as the family name, and heirs had been growing up there for generations. Thus, all Malfoy children tended to grow used to the odd properties – even by magic’s standards – of the house.

Narcissa Black-Malfoy, however, was not.

She had borrowed a book from her husband Lucius, once – a book on _Dark Magic_. She had placed it on the table for just a second, turned away to grab a glass of wine, and when she turned back she almost dropped said glass.

A… plastic back full of all sorts of Muggle food and packaging was sitting in place of her book. Upon inspection, Narcissa had discovered that it was, in fact, exactly that – Muggle shopping. Her brow had crinkled. How on _earth_ had such a thing gotten in here?

She’s simply ordered the House Elves to get rid of it, and they had done so. But no matter where she looked, Narcissa never found her book again.

\--

Upon asking her husband about the Manor, Lucius had sighed.

“I should have told you sooner,” he stated, smiling grimly. “I apologise.”

Narcissa had waited.

“This house,” he began, twirling his ring on his finger. “Has magical properties that I have never encountered anywhere else, but grew up with. These walls,” he gestured around. “Are connected, in some way, to another place. As a child, I recall seeing several people in mirrors and the like, and many have even found themselves physically present within our very Manor. I myself have stepped into the other home as a child, though now I take care to avoid it.”

Narcissa frowned.

“But, where is this other house?” she prompted. “What do we know of it?”

“Somewhere in America,” Lucius answered, smiling slightly. “Muggles tend to live there, ones that believe the house is haunted and so move out and the next move in. On several occasions my father and I have been tempted to buy the property ourselves, but it always seemed more trouble than it was worth.”

And so Narcissa learned of the Manor’s connection to another house, and accepted it.

\--

Both the Wests and the Malfoys caught glimpses of each other without ever actually speaking.

That is, until their babies are born.

\--

In mid-November, Narcissa begins to hear a baby’s cries.

She looks down at her own pregnant stomach and frowns. Her baby will not be born for another six months yet.

Narcissa follows the baby’s cries up the stairs, down the left corridor, right to the end of the hall. The door to her bedroom is open just a crack, and Narcissa barely even hesitates and in approaching it and pushing the door open all the way.

“Is that your baby?”

The woman sitting on the bed looks up. Indeed, she’s holding the crying baby in her arms, soothing it, and she stares at Narcissa in shock.

“Who are you?! How did you get in my house?!”

She looks panicked, but Narcissa just smiles and walks forwards.

“My name is Narcissa,” the blonde informs, sitting beside the woman and her baby on the bed. “What’s yours?”

“…Mary,” the woman informs after a moment, shuffling away from Narcissa. Then, “are you a ghost?” she whispers.

Narcissa smiles again, and Mary stares at her out the corner of her eye.

“No. I live in the other house. The Manor.”

“The… Manor?” Mary asks, turning to face Narcissa again. Her baby is still crying, but only softly. Mary holds it to her closely. “What Manor?”

Narcissa blinks.

“Surely you’ve noticed,” she comments, fiddling with her fingers. “My Manor and your house – they’re linked.” Mary continues to stare, so Narcissa continues. “It must have happened. You’ve opened the door to a room in your house only to find yourself stepping into mine. Or you’ve put something down and turned around to find something else in its place – something of _ours_.”

Mary nods.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, but how did you – where is your house? Your mansion?”

“It’s called Malfoy Manor,” Narcissa states, gesturing to the still open door. Mary peers at the corridor where the darkness of the mansion is clearly visible. “It’s in England. My husband’s family has lived here for generations.”

Mary smiles, and Narcissa appreciates the effort.

“Me and Rudy – my partner – we moved in recently to raise this little one,” she informs, jigging her bay up and down a bit. “He’s called Wally.”

Narcissa rubs her stomach.

“I’m pregnant,” she offers. “About three months.”

“Do you… have any names picked out?” Mary asks, shoulders relaxing. She’s calmed down, then. That’s good.

“If it’s a girl, Lyra. If it’s a boy, Draco.”

“Draco,” Mary mutters. “That’s an… interesting name.”

“Tradition,” Narcissa informs. “We like to name our children after the stars.”

Mary smiles.

“That… that sounds nice.”

“Narcissa!”

She hears Lucius’ voice calling her from within the Manor; Mary hears as well, looking towards the open door.

“Is that your husband?” she asks, and Narcissa nods, standing up.

“Yes. I’d better get going, then.” Narcissa pauses at the door, looking back. “Goodbye, Mary.”

Then she enters the corridor, shutting the door behind her.

Mary rises a few moments later, Wally in her arms, and opens the door Narcissa just closed.

Her own light corridor stands on the other side.

\--

Narcissa’s own baby is born six months later, in the month of June. It’s a boy. They name him Draco.

\--

**_Central City, America_ **

As an extremely young child, Wally has never noticed anything overtly odd about his house – at least, not in the way his parents have. Considering he’s very new to the world and almost everything is a first-time for him, it’s not anything unusual to him when he crawls through his own mirror.

Wally is just two when this happens, and so after crawling into a room he’s never seen before, he doesn’t see anything to be scared about. He just pulls himself to his feet and looks around with big eyes at the library.

It’s… a very big library. Wally likes books – picture books that his parents read to him, that is. He’s starting to read books with less pictures and more words, but that doesn’t change the fact that pictures are the best. Period.

He wanders about the library for roughly a whole hour, tapping at books and searching for any with just pictures in them. He does find some, eventually, near the entrance – but the pictures move and make sounds and it’s quite disconcerting, and so he puts it back.

Wally crawled in through his mirror and the library’s window, and so he waddles back there when he eventually feels like going home.

He arrives back to find his parents mad with worry and practically sobbing as he tumbles out onto the carpet, and Mary clutches him so hard that he thinks he’s going to choke.

She tells him to never do that again, but Wally doesn’t understand what he’s never supposed to do again, and so he doesn’t take her warning to heart.

Plus, he’s only two years old, and already such a curious little thing.

\--

Wally is playing with his toy car one day, at age three, when he pushes it a bit too far and it disappears about halfway across the room.

Wally stares at the point where it stopped, and blinks, but then just gets out his other car and begins to play with that, instead.

\--

**_Wiltshire, England_ **

Narcissa jumps as a strange contraption comes barrelling out of nowhere, slowing to halt right in front of her. Little Draco, sitting on his father’s lap and fiddling with Lucius’ long hair, doesn’t spare it a second glance, but Lucius himself frowns.

Narcissa picks the device up gingerly, noting its bright colours and simplistic wheels. Upon shooting her husband a look, she receives only a sigh.

“A Muggle contraption,” he explains, curling his lip up at the middle word. “From the other house, I assume. They have a child, don’t they?”

Narcissa nods.

“A few months older than Draco, I think,” she comments, placing the toy car on the table beside her. “I’ve seen him in mirrors and windows a couple times. Redhead. Bundle of energy.”

Lucius dips his head curtly.

“He doesn’t wander in much,” he notes. “Odd. I expect his parents won’t allow him to go many places on his own, for fear of him becoming lost in our Manor.”

“Well, we do the same,” Narcissa hums, sipping her tea. “It wouldn’t do to have Draco going through a door into their house and not being able to get back.”

“Quite,” Lucius returns, and the couple smile at each other.

On Lucius’ lap, Draco carries on, oblivious.

\--

At the age of five, Draco generally feels suffocated by his parents and the fact that he _still_ has to be escorted everywhere in the Manor. So when they leave him alone in his room one day, it’s a blessing, even despite the boredom.

He gets less bored when he notices the boy watching him through his mirror.

Draco walks over and sits before it, frowning. The redhead on the other side is doing the same thing, sitting cross-legged, except that he’s smiling.

“You’re in my mirror,” Draco notes, chewing on one of his fingernails. The boy nods enthusiastically.

“You’re in _my_ mirror!” he proclaims, grinning. He’s entirely too lively for Draco to like him, the blonde decides. This boy is getting on his nerves.

But, his curiosity is piqued.

“Did someone trap you there?” he enquires, squinting his eyes. The boy shakes his head.

“Nope!” he announces, popping the ‘p’. “I’m just sitting in my bedroom. Where are you?”

“I’m in _my_ bedroom,” Draco informs, almost complainingly – because if he’s in _his_ bedroom, then the boy can’t be in the boy’s bedroom, because this bedroom is _Draco’s_. He doesn’t say any of that, though. “In my mansion.”

Draco announces the last word proudly, showing off. And, sure enough, the boy looks impressed.

“You live in a _mansion_?” he asks, sounding awed. He grins, showing off all his teeth. “That’s so cool! I just live in a house.”

Draco sniffs.

“Where are you from?” he asks bluntly. “You don’t sound like anyone I know.”

“Central City,” the boy informs, sounding proud about that. “In America.”

Draco’s eyes bulge.

“I thought America was far away,” he mutters, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve, then stopping. His father has been trying to get him to stop doing that. “I live in England.”

Instead of looking confused, the boy just looks enthralled.

“Wow! That _is_ far away! My mum got me a globe for Christmas, and she showed me where we live and where England is. You’re right, they’re really far away!”

“If they’re far away,” Draco demands sourly. “Then how are you in my mirror?”

The boy’s eyes light up.

“Maybe it’s a portal!” he theorizes, fiddling with the edge of _his_ sleeve. Draco glares jealously. He wishes he could fiddle with his own, but Lucius will probably notice later and get angry at him. “I’ve gone into a big library before – was that yours?”

Draco blinks.

“You’ve been to the library?” he asks, almost to himself, because he’s _sure_ he would have noticed – unless he was _very_ young, that is. “But – if you can travel here, can I travel there?”

“Let’s find out,” the boy announces mischievously, twinkle in his green, green eyes, before reaching his hand through to grab Draco’s wrist and pull him back through the mirror.

\--

**_Central City, America_ **

Draco tumbles out on top of the boy in an undignified heap, and immediately knows that his father would Greatly Disapprove. And so, even at just five years old, his first act of business is to pull himself up and dust off his robes.

“That was horrible!” he huffs, crossing his arms petulantly. Then he scowls when he notices what the redhead’s busy doing. “Stop laughing!”

“Sorry,” the boy apologises, though he sounds anything but. He squints, looking upwards. “Your face looks really funny when you do that with it.”

If possible, Draco scowls harder, before deciding that it isn’t worth it and taking a look around.

“This is your room?” he asks sourly, though it isn’t really a question. He crinkles up his nose at all the… _junk_ lying around. Oh, his parents would _hate_ this. “It’s very messy.”

“That’s what mum says,” the boy informs, standing up himself. Him and Draco are practically the same height. “She’s always nagging at me to tidy it.”

“You really should,” Draco comments. “It looks like the peacocks have been in here.”

The boy looks at him with big eyes.

“You have peacocks?” he breathes, and Draco just rolls his eyes.

“ _Yes_ ,” he informs crossly, trying to flip his hair in the way he’s seen his dad do countless times, though Draco’s not quite sure how well he’s pulled it off. “Now,” he begins, unfolding his arms to gesture towards the door. “Are you going to show me around or not?”

The boy gets this silly goofy grin on his face.

“Yes!” he announces, starting toward the door. Draco follows at what he deems a safe distance from the boy’s too-wide hand gestures. “I’m Wally West, by the way.”

Draco allows his first small smile to come onto his face. Perhaps this boy isn’t so bad, after all.

“Hello, West,” he greets. “My name is Draco Malfoy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a rough outline of the rest of this fic so hopefully i'll actually be swift about writing it
> 
> hopefully

_Years Later_

**_Central City, America_ **

“What are you doing, again?” Draco asks for the tenth time. Wally shoots him an annoyed look.

“I already told you,” he complains, even though he’s grinning as he does so. “I’m going replicate the Flash’s experiment. I’ve got all the right chemicals, and with a storm heading this way it’s the perfect chance! Lightning will strike, and I’ll become a speedster!”

Wally puffs out his chest, but pouts when he sees just how _unimpressed_ Draco looks.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he states bluntly, picking up one of the beakers and crinkling his nose. “You’ve got a bunch of potions ingredients lying around, but you’re not even making a potion.” Draco pauses, tilting his head to one side. “Do your parents even know that you’re doing this?”

“Of course they don’t,” Wally returns, bouncing over to Draco and plucking the beaker from his hand. Draco blinks. “I don’t need their help, I’m ten now. And besides, they wouldn’t understand.”

“ _I_ don’t understand,” Draco points out. “And you only _jus_ t turned ten, West.”

Wally shoots him a _look_.

“Why do you call me West all the time?” he asks, grin twitching at the corners of his lips. “It’s so silly. _I_ just call _you_ Draco.”

Draco looks affronted.

“My parents always call Muggles and Muggleborns by their surnames,” he informs, picking up another beaker and frowning at it. “You’re a Muggle.”

Wally crinkles up his nose.

“A Muggle is someone that can’t do magic?” he asks sceptically, and at Draco’s nod Wally sighs. “Magic isn’t _real_. It’s just advanced science.”

“It _is_ real!” Draco defends. “How else would I be in your room? You live in America!”

He brings up a good point, but Wally has a better one.

“I told you,” he answers smugly. “It’s a portal. Easily explainable by science.”

Draco scowls.

“I think that _science_ isn’t real!” he declares triumphantly, finally placing the beaker back down. “It’s just what Muggles use to explain magic.” Wally opens his mouth to argue, but Draco frowns and crosses his arms. “Now, are you going to do your thing, or not? I’m getting bored.”

“You’re just impatient,” Wally declares, checking the layout of the chemicals one last time. “Science takes time and patience.”

“Magic’s better,” Draco informs, messing with his robes. Wally resists the urge to laugh every time he sees them. Draco sure does wear strange clothes. “It’s quick and easy.”

“Didn’t you say you’re going off to some school for seven years to go and learn it, though?” Wally points out. “That doesn’t sound quick.”

Draco flushes.

“It’s still better than science,” he sniffs. “Get on with it, will you?”

“You don’t even know what I’m trying to do,” Wally complains, moving to stand next to Draco as he does so. He then takes a deep, excited breath, surveying his surroundings. “Okay. I’m done.”

They stand in silence for a few seconds before Draco sighs.

“Well?” he demands, turning to look at Wally. “Is something _going_ to happen?”

“Wait for it,” Wally mutters, wide eyes surveying the sky outside. “It’s coming soon.”

Draco watches with him, frown etched onto his face.

“…Maybe you should go,” Wally says after a second, reluctantly turning away from the window. “If you stay, you might get powers, as well. You already have fake magic, it wouldn’t be fair if you got both.”

“It’s not fake,” Draco says, eyes flickering to the mirror, where his bedroom is visible. “I – yeah. I’ll go. If our mirrors get unlinked now, I’ll get stuck.”

It’s true. Neither so far has gotten stuck on the wrong side, but quite often their mirrors _aren’t_ connected, and Draco and Wally will see only themselves reflected back. Sometimes, the mirror will connect to a different part of the other’s house – Draco’s pantry, or Wally’s kitchen.

(On one memorable occasion, it had connected from Draco’s bedroom to Wally’s bathroom, and Draco slept in his parents’ room for two days.)

Draco pauses before the mirror.

“Don’t die.”

Wally beams.

“I won’t!”

And so Draco steps through, back to his own house, and he’s only been through for a couple of seconds before the lightning hits.

\--

**_Wiltshire, England_ **

Narcissa is halfway through her books when she hears the explosion.

It comes from three places at once – the kitchen, the ceiling and Draco’s bedroom. She rushes towards the one that causes her the most concern.

“Draco!” slips out of her mouth as she takes the stairs two at a time. “Draco, are you alright?”

Lucius is out, Narcissa’s panicking mind supplies. If something’s happened to Draco and he needs help, she’ll only have the House Elves for immediate assistance. That might not be good enough.

“Draco!” she gasps one last time, pushing his door open, and blinks.

Smoke is coming out of the mirror. _From the other house_ , Narcissa’s mind whispers. It’s cascading, billowing in and filling every corner of the room until she can barely see Draco through it. Her eyes burn and her throat aches, and Narcissa coughs but she needs to help Draco.

“Draco?” she asks into the smoke, voice muffled by her hand over her mouth, but her son must hear her because he replies.

“Mother?”

“Draco?” she says again, reaching out blinding into the smoke and regretting leaving her wand behind. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” Draco chokes out, and it seems like the smoke must be filling his lungs, too. Narcissa hears the sounds of him stumbling about, trying to move towards her. “I’m – ah!”

His arms finally brush against hers and Narcissa grabs them without hesitation and pulls him away, out of that room and that smoke and that _danger_. She doesn’t know _what_ happened, but it’s a very good guess that it came from the Wests’ house and she _refuses_ to have her child impacted by that.

“Mother,” Draco says as she hurries them down the corridor, away from that dreaded room. He’s trying to stay calm, she can tell, but he’s only ten and the tone of his voice betrays his fear. “It was West. The explosion was in his room.”

Narcissa’s eyes glance backwards and she bites her lip, but continues marching steadily.

“You’re my priority,” she informs brusquely, abruptly letting go of her son and looking him in the eye. He looks steadily back, despite his fear, and Narcissa allows the edges of her mouth to quirk. She has taught him well. “But I will go back for your friend. Wait here.”

“He’s not my _friend_ ,” she hears Draco protest as she begins to rush off – at a slow walk at first, until she thinks of the force of the explosion and the red-headed child, and soon she is running.

\--

**_Central City, America_ **

_Pain._

_Painpainpainpainpainpainpain._

_Owwwwwwwwww._

The noise Wally makes doesn’t even sound human. He takes a moment to register this, before he shifts and is caught by another onslaught of _painpainpainpainPAIN_.

He can’t see anything through the smoke, but there’s a sound, he thinks. Like electricity crackling and sparking, a sound he has always loved to hear but now despises as it sends shivers down his spine. Wally grits his teeth.

_Owww._

He blinks, and his vision is assaulted with a streak of brightness that is also white hot with electricity, and all Wally can do is cry out.

_So much for “I won’t die”._

\--

**_Wiltshire, England_ **

The mirror has shifted.

Narcissa stares for a second before cursing, and rushes back out of Draco’s room, the remnants of the smoke stinging her eyes.

“Mother,” Draco calls, approaching with wide eyes. “What’s –”

“Your mirror disconnected,” she informs, voice coming out at an even tone which is much calmer than she feels. “I’ll go search for another way through.”

She begins to move more on instinct than anything, recalling where the sounds of the explosion came from – Draco’s bedroom, the kitchen and the ceiling. The ceiling, from where she’d been sitting, was likely her own bedroom, and closer to her current position than the kitchen. But she left her wand downstairs, closer to the kitchen.

Narcissa takes a calculated risk, rushing down the stairs as fast as she can. If the child is greatly injured, then her wand may be of assistance. She’s nowhere near an expert on healing magic, but any decent wizard knows to learn the basics at a young age.

Hopefully, the basics will have to do.

Except that, when Narcissa arrives at where she _knows_ she left her wand, she finds the space instead occupied by a Muggle novel – a dark red one that is decidedly _not_ going to be of any use.

“ _Merlin_ ,” she curses, already heading towards the kitchen. She took a calculated risk, and she calculated wrong. No use fretting over it now.

A child’s life might be in danger.

\--

Draco waits at the top of the stairs.

He sees his mother go into the kitchen, and hears her movements fall silent. She must be in the Wests’ house.

Draco bites his lip. Should he follow her?

Wally’s parents are out. Father is out. But Mother has gone to assist, and Draco trusts his mother more than anyone in the world.

It will be fine, he decides. Wally may be a Muggle, but he’s a strong and intelligent one, if slightly annoying. He’s Draco’s only choice as a playmate, really, considering that Malfoy Manor is miles from any other homes, and so Draco is miles from any other children.

He doesn’t think his parents understand how lonely he gets, sometimes.

Wally seems to understand, though. And he may be a Muggle with funny ideas about magic and science, but he’s… nice. And not insufferably slow, like Vince and Greg on the rare occasions they visit.

Draco’s not sure how Wally West achieved the position of being Draco Malfoy’s best friend, but he knows that Wally should be honoured by it.

In truth, though, he knows that Wally would probably just laugh if he heard Draco’s thoughts.

He has a feeling that all the way in America, Wally isn’t laughing now.

\--

**_Central City, America_ **

Though unaware of this, Draco is right.

Wally isn’t laughing.

He’s screaming.

Maybe ‘screaming’ is an oversight – it’s more akin to wailing, or crying, or really anything that conveys the distress of being struck by lightning.

It hurts _so bad_.

 _“Child?”_ a voice shouts through the haze, but that can’t be right, because Wally’s home alone, right? _“Don’t worry, I am coming!”_

Wally doesn’t even pay attention until he feels hands grabbing at him, and he almost sobs in relief before everything goes black.

\--

When Wally wakes up, Draco is sitting over him. The smell of antiseptic fills the air, as well as a steady _beep beep beep_ that tells him he’s in hospital.

He opens his mouth to ask _Did it work?_ but all that comes out is a groan. It does the job, though, gathering Draco’s attention.

“So the idiot arises,” he drawls, frowning down at Wally, before going ahead with his accusation. “You told me you knew what you were doing.”

Well, he _thought_ he did, didn’t he?

But Wally can’t answer, so he shrugs and smiles slightly, wincing at the pain that shoots down his shoulders. Draco eyes his discomfort.

“Don’t move,” he orders, eyes flickering upwards. “A Muggle healer should be here soon. But they’re not very good. They can’t rely on magic to heal anything, so they just list all the stuff wrong with you and then don’t do anything about it. If you were a wizard you’d be healed by now, but you’re not.”

Draco is clearly winding up to go on one of his rants about how inferior to wizards Muggles are, and Wally manages to dredge up the energy to put a stop to this before it starts.

“Doctors,” he says with a croaky voice, coughing immediately. Draco watches with wide eyes. “They’re called doctors.”

Draco tilts his head.

“Doctors,” he repeats, shaking his head. “That’s a funny word. Healers is better. It’s actually descriptive. Not that any of your _doctors_ ,” he sneers the word, “seem to be any good at healing. Just at fiddling with clipboards and writing stuff down.”

Okay, Wally _really_ has to derail this topic.

“Mum,” he gets out, and Draco nods.

“Fine, West. I’ll go and get your parents. And I _suppose_ a doctor as well.” He stands and looks down, still frowning. “Your aunt and uncle are here, too. Everyone’s very worried, but I’m just annoyed. You’d better find some way to make it up to me.”

And with that, Draco leaves before Wally can get a response out.

When his parents, the doctor and Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry all crowd in later, Draco is not with them.

“He’s headed home, sweetheart,” Mary informs at his questioning look, squeezing his hand lightly. “Are you alright?”

As soon as Wally nods, her expression turns fierce and her gentle hold turns into a grip that makes him wince.

“That was a very stupid thing that you did, young man! What were you _thinking_? If Narcissa hadn’t been there, oh my -”

“Sorry, mum,” Wally says, waving his arm.

It moves fast. _Impossibly_ fast. A crackle of lightning follows it, and all occupants of the room stare, open-mouthed, with wide eyes.

Wally grins.

“Oh, _yes_.”

\--

**_Wiltshire, England_ **

Narcissa had had to search through the Wests’ house to find an open connection for half an hour before one presented itself. Draco had followed her around, silent. He’s been putting on a brave face, but Narcissa can tell that he’s been spooked.

Now, back in the Mansion, Lucius towers over them.

“I returned to find the Manor empty,” he drawls, the fingers tightening around his cane the only indication of his worry. “The House Elves, useless creatures, knew nothing. And now I see my wife and son emerge from the hallway as though nothing has happened.” Lucius tilts his head, and Narcissa recognises it for the question it is.

“There was an explosion in the other house,” she informs, smiling lightly. “It’s all sorted, mostly due to my influence. They’re in our debt, now.”

Lucius nods in approval, though he casts a glance at Draco.

“And why was your presence required, Draco?” he asks. Draco simply smiles in the same light way as his mother. The family resemblance is uncanny.

“I have been cultivating a friendship with the Wests’ son,” he answers easily. “It wouldn’t do to not seem concerned.”

Lucius simply smirks and turns on his heel.

“You’re not fooling anyone. You care for the boy.” Even facing away, Draco can detect the sneer in his father’s voice. His heart drops. “However,” Lucius continues, and Draco looks up. “It is good to have tolerable company around. You must get lonely, correct?”

Draco nods, before realising that his father can’t see and answering verbally.

“Yes, Father.”

“Then I don’t see a problem with your affection. As long as you remember that we are purebloods, and they are Muggles. Understand?”

Draco blinks, but a smile is tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lucius turns back around and smiles. “I think we should all go out as a celebration. I will reserve a seat at that restaurant you’re so fond of, Narcissa – what was its name again?”

As his mother and father begin discussing things, Draco smiles. Though he can’t help but wonder if Wally’s experiment worked.

He resolves to ask him, next time their mirrors connect. _If_ Wally can find a satisfactory way to make it up to him for being so stupid.

After all, it doesn’t do to make a Malfoy worry.


End file.
